Smiling weakly, she dropped her gaze back to the list. Words blurred, becoming unrecognizable. Her cheeks still stung with remembered mortification.
She’d lost control, allowing her desire full rein. A curl of heat swirled in her center at the memory of his firm, masculine lips. She’d never been kissed so thoroughly, so passionately before in all her life. And she’d never responded with such reckless abandon either.
She shifted in her seat as she recalled the erotic dream turning quickly to even better actuality. How could she erase the doubts, the momentary jealousy that shadowed Nick’s expression when he’d asked her who she thought was kissing her? How could she convince him she’d become dumbfounded that her fantasy had come true?
Nick’s rich voice carved through her thoughts. “What will you have?”
You, she bit back the hasty reply, the reply she’d yearned to give him earlier in the truck. Instead, she remained silent now as she did then.
Sydney piped up, “Do they have ’roni pizza?”
“No, Princess, I’m afraid not,” Nick said with a smile in his voice. “But they do have cheeseburgers and French fries, will that do?”
“Yum, yum.”
“I guess that means yes.”
Bree grinned behind her shield, absorbing the easy interplay between Nick and her daughter. Her heart swelled with sudden, unexpected tenderness, for her little girl, for Nick.
At that startling thought, Bree jerked. She snapped the menu shut, and then cast it aside. Nick’s arched brow prompted her to say the first thing that popped into her mind. “I’ll try the special.”
“Roast beef, it is then.” He laid his menu on top of hers.
Sydney leaned toward Nick, whispering loudly, “Now, Poppa, can we do it now?”
Bree looked from her daughter, and then to Nick. He avoided her stare. Surprise washed over Bree when she spotted the dull flush rising in his cheeks.
“Sure, Princess.” Nick dipped a hand inside his suit jacket, tugging out a multi-colored wrapped package. “Ah, this is…a wedding present. For you.”
Almost bashfully, Nick passed the small rectangular box across the table. His vulnerability erased her own awkwardness, touching a soft spot in her center. Joy tickled her at the unexpected gesture.
“I helped pick it out.” Sydney smiled widely.
With the package cradled in her palms, Bree giggled at the telltale cartoons encircling the box. “And I’m sure you chose the wrapping paper, too.”
“Yep. I just love Maxine.”
“Ah…” Nick said, turning a brighter shade of red. “It’s just a little something from both of us.”
“Can I open it now, or should I wait?” Bree asked, teasing her daughter’s streak of impatience.
“Now.” Sydney inched closer in anticipation.
Slowly, almost reverently, Bree peeled away the colored newspaper. She wished to savor her first gift from her new husband.
“Hurry, Mommy.”
Tongue-in-cheek, Bree answered, “Well, I wouldn’t want to ruin the lovely paper, now would I?”
Sydney slapped her hand to her forehead and shook her head. “Oh, brother.”
Bree laughed out loud and Nick followed suit. Her hand shook slightly as she gingerly lifted the lid of the blue velvet box. She gasped as the firelight bounced a flare across the shiny surface of a gold, heart-shaped locket.
“Go ahead and open it. You’re gonna love it.” Sydney rubbed her small hands together with glee.
Robbed of speech, Bree found the tiny latch and snapped the smooth top open. Tears smarted her eyes as she gazed at a picture of Nick and Sydney beaming back at her. “Where? How?”
She looked to Nick for the answers. He shrugged uncomfortably, dragging a hand over his face. “We planned it right after you and I decided to get married. When I took care of Sydney a few days ago we saw the idea through.”
His stilted recital only warmed her more. It was obvious to Bree that he’d put great time and thought into arranging this special gift. She traced the script engraving on the inside of the lid. Nick and Bree, along with their wedding date.
With trembling hands she closed the locket, and then fumbled with the catch. Finally she secured it around her neck, the pendant nestled between her breasts. Bree snatched up her napkin, blotting the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. It’s such a beautiful present. Thank you, Nick, I’ll always treasure it.”
“I’m glad you like it.” His voice sounded rough and clouded with emotion.
“What about me? I helped.” Sydney crossed her arms over her little chest.
“Oh, sweetpea, thank you so much.” Bree caressed her daughter’s cheek, drawing a wide smile. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. Besides you, of course.”
“Is everything all right, folks?” the older, red-haired waitress asked as she joined them, eyeing Bree closely.
A tad embarrassed, Bree gave the lady a watery smile. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She fingered the locket, cherishing it. The cool gold warmed instantly.
“It’s nerves,” Sydney said, nodding her head. “That’s what Father Tom said anyway,” she added as Bree turned to her.
“It must be the wedding day jitters,” Bree fibbed, too overcome to tell anyone how touched she really was. A thick mixture of elation and awe clogged her throat. Optimism blossomed in her heart. There is hope for Nick and me after all. He’d just proved it to her.
“It’s your wedding day?” A wide smile accompanied the waitress’ question, etching soft, deep wrinkles into the woman’s long face. Her pale green eyes danced in merriment.
“Yep,” Sydney willing supplied. “And this is our ’ception.”
“Reception,” Bree corrected.
“Isn’t this wonderful? Well, congratulations,” the woman said while pumping Nick’s hand. “This calls for a very special treat.” She addressed Sydney now, asking, “Would you like to help me pick out a cake from the dessert cart?”
Sydney’s eyes widened as she turned to Bree. A hopeful, expectant look cried out to her. “Can I, mommy?”
Bree nodded. Her reward was the happiness on the little round face beaming up at her.
“Oh, goodie.” Sydney jumped down from her chair, and then skirted the table. “What kind do you want, Poppa?” she asked over her shoulder as she followed the lady to the three-tier cart, ten feet away.
“Chocolate,” Bree and Nick said in unison. Bree locked gazes with Nick, exchanging a warm smile filled with loving memories.
“Nana.”
Bree echoed that one word. “Nana.” With warmth in her cheeks, she went on, “I can still remember the look on your face when you walked in on us.”
“It can’t be half as bad as seeing Nana covered from head to toe in flour.”
Bree joined in his laughter. “You have to admit my first chocolate cake turned out pretty good.”
“Yeah, it did,” he said wistfully. “But it took Nana a week to get all the ingredients out of her hair. I swear her friends thought she’d dyed her hair all sorts of strange colors.”
Bree laughed until more tears moistened her eyes. She dabbed at them with the corner of her napkin. “Remember how many precautions she took the next time?”
“I understood the shower cap, but when she pulled out the umbrella…” Nick chuckled, recalling the hilarious scene in his mind. Watching Bree, observing her unrestricted delight at the wedding gift and happy times, he felt a pool of sweet, shared sentimentality take root, warming him. And the invisible band of steel constricting around his chest finally eased.
He hated the well of suspicion that sprang inside of him at the assumption she’d wished he were any other man kissing her.
Could she have been dreaming of Vinnie? Nick winced as if a mule kicked him in the gut. Jealousy, raw and ugly, heated his blood. How the hell could he ever compete with a dead man?
Nick leaned back. Studying Bree, he detected the reserve she u
sually kept with him slipped out of place, allowing him access to the real woman.
Soft, open, approachable, he mused. He longed for her to always be like this, especially with him. Sighing, he wondered how long she’d let her guard down this time. Would he have seconds, minutes, or hours?
Her teasing smile stayed in place, giving him a small measure of hope and a great amount of pleasure.
Five and a half years passed and still he sensed he barely knew her. He’d memorized the cold, bald facts: only daughter of middle-aged, middle-income parents; father died of a heart attack when Bree turned thirteen; Bree nurse and caretaker to her sickly mother until nineteen when the woman finally succumbed; a year of cosmetology school; full-time hairdresser for years; night-time business student; met Vinnie in college; got pregnant; hasty marriage; three years later, after Vinnie was killed in the line of duty, widow.
Nick knew the short, plain resume hinted at none of her courage, her strength, her determination, her pain. Nor did she wear them like badges of honor, won in mortal combat.
She hid all that, and so much more, behind a fortress a mile high. The so much more plagued Nick over the years, nagging at him now as he stared at his radiant bride. It seemed as if she locked away a vital part of her, a secret part.
He hadn’t been a cop for twenty plus years without learning the signs: averting the eyes, changing the subject, evading the issues. It was all there in Bree.
Catching and holding her sparkling gaze, something inexplicable shifted in his middle, chasing away the long shadows of his grief.
Nick’s goal formed. He wanted his wife like this all the time. He promised himself he’d uncover the sequestered, mysterious portion of Bree, revealing the many complex layers of her. Only then, when she bared her soul, could he ever allow himself to open up and trust Bree Hansen Carletti.
***
With a bag in his left hand and another tucked under his arm, Nick shoved open the cabin door. Reaching in, he flicked on the hallway light.
A pool of light bathed the foyer and hallway of the log cabin, the varnished wood floor gleaming in welcome.
“Ladies, after you.” Nick stepped aside, ushering in his new family with a sweeping gesture.
Exhausted, Sydney tripped over the threshold. Bree caught her and steadied the little girl. “Bedtime for you, sweetpea.”
“Do I have to?” she asked, following the question with a huge, noisy yawn.
“I think you answered yourself,” Nick said with a smile in his voice while setting the luggage down. They hit the floor with a dull click.
“Only if mommy comes to bed, too,” Sydney whined, crossing her arms over her tiny chest.
“She will, all in good time,” Nick promised in a hoarse whisper, catching Bree’s anxious look as he straightened. Visions of taking her in his arms and repeating the kiss from earlier, flared in his mind. The thought of making slow, sweet love to her fired his blood.
Sydney stomped her foot and screwed up her face. “Mommy, sleep now. In my top bunk, like always.”
Nick stilled. Had he heard right?
Bree knelt next to Sydney, purposely avoiding his questioning look, Nick figured. If his granddaughter was to be believed, Bree and Vinnie hadn’t slept together, at least not when they were here.
Only one conclusion came to mind: trouble, deep-seated and unworkable, forged a wedge between Vinnie and Bree. Surprise lanced through Nick; he’d never known that. Vinnie hadn’t confided in him. What else didn’t he know?
“Come on, honey, I’ll carry you upstairs and help you get ready for bed,” Bree coaxed.
“You, too.”
“After I help your Poppa unload the truck, all right?”
“You’ll stay with me?” Sydney asked. Her lower lip stuck out in a pout.
“Ah…” Bree hesitated.
Something inside Nick tightened, tying a thick, heavy knot. He’d shared Bree with so many people over the years, too many for his taste. He didn’t deny Sydney needed her mother. But he’d be damned if a five-year-old dictated his sleeping arrangements.
Start out as you intend to go, Nana’s often used words of advice came to him now.
Nick kept his tone even, but heard the edge of steel all the same. “We discussed this all a few weeks ago, remember, Princess? Your mom and I told you we were going to get married and we’d all be a family. That means your mom and I are a couple now. And I think I should have a say so in where my wife sleeps.”
Chapter 7
An hour later, Bree, clasping the precious locket to her chest, leaned her forehead against the cool pane of glass. She looked out into the dark night from Sydney’s second floor bedroom window.
Her breath steamed on the glass, fogging her view. Her daughter’s faint snoring in the bunk bed behind her comforted Bree, assuring her at least Sydney seemed at peace.
Hugging herself, Bree trembled. Her hands did little to heat her bare, icy arms. The thin T-shirt she now wore held no warmth or protection.
“You’re not a virgin, silly,” she scolded herself softly. It did nothing to still the quivers. “You might as well be for all the shaking you’re doing. And for all your lack of experience.”
That little remembered tidbit only increased her nervousness. Nick would discover that glaring fact soon enough, hence the problem.
She knew Nick waited for her on the front porch; he’d warned her when he came in to kiss Sydney goodnight. She shifted her stare to the roofed porch below and to her left, seeking him out.
The crescent moon cast silvery light across the yard. An arch of yellow widened as the door opened. A shadow moved restlessly, merging with the buttery luminosity, next swallowed into the darkness, and then materializing once again.
“Nick,” she whispered, realizing he prowled the wide, wooden planks. He acted as jittery as she felt. That little bit of knowledge forged a lasting kinship with him.
After all, we’re in this together, she reasoned. Her instinctive withdrawal from Nick splintered, and then peeled away.
Gathering her courage, Bree stood, straight and tall, ready to face the inevitable. Wiping her damp palms on her faded jeans, she marched out of the small room and down the stairway.
She slowed when she neared the big, wide opening to the porch. With each step, her heart crashed against her ribs in a wild tempo.
Gulping hard, she pressed on toward the threshold. She gasped in alarm as Nick came into view. He filled the frame, tall and broad-shouldered.
Lord, he looked handsome in his dark blue UCONN sweatshirt, a hint of white underneath revealing his T-shirt, and tight well-worn jeans. “I was just coming out…” her voice trailed off.
He stepped back, giving her room to pass. A wave of his body heat and his scent attacked her, causing her to stumble. He caught her easily, pulling her close. She held herself rigid for long, drawn-out moments, and then, in spite of her mental opposition, she succumbed to the irresistible man cradling her. Time stood still for Bree. Enveloped in his welcoming, comforting embrace, she drank it all in. His warm, large hands splayed on her back, reminded her of much needed balm to a raw wound.
Here she discovered a serenity she felt nowhere else. Here, in his strong arms, she received no harsh judgments, only solace from the guilt and shame she heaped on herself. Here she found a safe haven.
Tucking her face into the side of his neck, Bree inhaled the intoxicating combination of his tangy after-shave and his male scent. Bree leaned into him more, pressing her aching breasts to his rock solid chest, bringing an answering thrill to her blood.
Suddenly, he clamped his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away. “We need to talk.” His words rang with strained determination.
Hurt, she pulled back. She berated herself for her fanciful notions; she had grave doubts he’d ever see her in a favorable light. The humiliation of her actions burned in her cheeks. “I owe you an apology.” The stiffness in her voice could have starched a shirt.
Nick sighed, his hot bre
ath fanning her face.
Twisting away, she turned her back on him. As she made her way to the porch steps on shaky legs, she heard him close the door with a definite click, stemming the stream of light.
Now only silvery moonbeams washed the landscape and the porch. Bree plopped down on the top stair, circling her knees with her arms. “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you wanted.” That’s what you wanted, she said silently, her body still humming with delicious delight, her heart still thumping in her chest.
“It is and it isn’t,” Nick said, confusing her even more. He took a seat beside her. A mere four inches separated them.
“You’ve…lost me.” She shivered. From the chilly night or from him, she couldn’t say.
He yanked his sweatshirt off, and then handed it to her. “Here, take this.” When she hesitated, he put it on her.
Some strange, invisible thread tugged at her heart as he tenderly smoothed the garment over her, making certain to cover her fully.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The heat from his body clung to the fabric, surrounding her in badly needed warmth and sandalwood after-shave. Something low and deep tightened in her core, sending an ache mushrooming through her soul.
Why did she always want what she couldn’t have? She knew Nick held fast to his loyalty to Vinnie, to his distrust of her.
Silence reined, blanketing Nick and her in a shared moment of awareness.
The peep frogs sang to each other in a song of loneliness, strumming a similar chord in her.
Bree looked on in wonder as stars twinkled in a rhythm all their own. The sweet scent of pine on the cool night air swirled around her, heightening her senses.
The world went on as it always had and always would. And Bree realized how strange life turned out; here she sat in awe beside the most appealing man she’d even known, her husband.
“I guess I have some explaining to do,” Nick offered with a hint of reluctance, his rich voice a salve to her injured pride. Taking a deep breath, he went on, “In all my years on the force I’ve learned one vital key to relationships: communication. That’s something you and I lack.”
Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) Page 5